


girl

by obfuscation



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscation/pseuds/obfuscation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pan has no time for people who never had a childhood at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	girl

There was only ever one girl, when taken to Neverland, who did not fall irreversibly in love with Peter. For this reason she certainly wasn’t counted among Peter’s top contenders for the spot of Mother, but her casual dismissal of his greatness intrigued him, because she was previously undiscovered territory and completely baffling, and there was very little Peter liked better than to be confronted with novelty. (This is what he told himself, anyway.)

Her name was—well, her name was of little consequence to Peter; he just thought of her as Girl, and it was to Girl that he lost Crispy, his very best marble shooter. In those days, Peter hadn’t lost a single boy to anyone other than pirates, not since Wendy (who of course he certainly didn’t remember much about; of course not, why would he?), so here was another reason Girl was so intriguing.

The loss happened on a Thursday night, which he only knew was Thursday because Girl told him so, which was absolutely ridiculous because he’d banished Thursday or any other day that was not Saturday many many many forgotten Thursdays earlier. But here she was, reminding him it was Thursday, and a school night, breaking his laws, this Girl who wasn’t even impressed with him at all, and he found himself wondering, What sort of terrible thing have I brought home?

It wasn’t his fault she was here, of course; intruders were never his fault.

After a largely unsuccessful attempt at burning her at the stake for her insubordination, Peter sat down with Tinkerbell to discuss the matter of Girl.

“Well, she just isn’t any fun, is she?” he huffed, and Tinkerbell, who had not changed much from Wendy’s days, said, “Don’t give up, Peter! We can try burning her again tomorrow.”

“But we can’t, she has to be back for Algebra class,” he sighed. 

“Perhaps she’s just too old for us,” Tinkerbell sighed back, except she wasn’t sighing so much as she was mocking him. “After all, she IS uglier than they usually are.”

(Girl was not uglier than they usually were.)

Peter shook his head, frowning. “Well, she’s an awful lot younger than me,” he said, with great finality, because Peter was always the oldest boy in the pack, because this justified his leadership position, and it was certainly true that he was VERY VERY VERY YOUNG.

But alas, perhaps he had made a grave miscalculation, because when he and Tinkerbell returned to Hangman’s Tree, he found Girl and Crispy fast asleep in the soft leaves that made Crispy’s bed, and--what HORROR--it was a very respectable time to fall asleep indeed.

“We don’t have bedtimes in Neverland,” argued Tinkerbell. “We don’t have TIME in Neverland.”

“SO?” said Peter, but when he went to wake them up, the other boys sat up and went SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

“She has school in the morning,” said Second Nibs.

“Oh, hush, Nibs; you don’t even know what school is,” Peter reasoned, and then he woke everyone up anyway, because it was his tree house and he was the leader, wasn’t he?

Girl was very grouchy with him and would not go outside to catch fireflies. Perhaps this was because she was still upset he’d tried to kill her. He hadn't meant it. It wasn’t like that sort of thing was permanent, or anything.

–

It was almost time for the sun again, and Girl had not joined in a single game. She had, however, quarreled with Crispy six times.

The first argument concerned the matter of Peter trying to burn her at the stake.

The second was about how thin Crispy was, now that he was a Lost Boy.

The third was about Peter waking them up when he knew she had Algebra tomorrow. (Crispy seemed very confused by this Algebra thing, which made sense, given that Algebra was a nonsense word nobody in their right mind had ever heard of, but Peter reassured Crispy it was probably all a sympathy-type trick the Girl concocted to encourage Crispy to give her his marble shooter. Crispy seemed doubtful. Girl didn’t care much for marbles.)

The fourth was about how thin Girl was, now that Crispy was a Lost Boy. This argument was worrisome, but Peter couldn’t put a finger on just why that was. It was at this point that Tinkerbell said, “Uh-oh,” and her light dimmed just a little bit. Tinkerbell gave Peter a very solemn expression when this argument ended, because Crispy wore a very solemn expression too, solemner than Girl’s, even, and Tinkerbell and Peter agreed they had not seen sorrow on a face that way since World War 2, whatever that had been. Tinkerbell did not do well with sorrow. It hit her like a train. She went away to drink rum and think about other things. Peter thought this weak, but fair. 

The fifth argument was about how badly Abigail needed a father. This was when Girl called Crispy “Carlos!” and he said, “Oh stop it, Abbie’s fine,” and then he said, “Who is Abbie?” and quite suddenly, like a thunderstorm's late August flash-flood, Girl started crying a very lot of tears, a very lot of tears indeed. Crispy was crying too. There were too many tears. Peter wanted to cry with them. Why were they crying? Peter was ever so tired of sadness. The night was ruined.

Peter decided, again, that he didn’t like Girl one bit, and told Crispy he shouldn’t like anybody who made him cry so. Crying wasn’t fit for warriors.

“I’m not a fucking warrior, I’m first chair violin,” Crispy’d spit out. Oh no. Nobody was ever reminded of being first chair unless the situation was escalating out of control. Peter knew it was time for an intervention, so he took Crispy and Girl to the snowy place so they could finish this argument with a snow ball fight instead of yelling and crying or whatever it was they were doing now.

The sixth argument was thustly postponed, due to the change of location and all of that, but even the prospect of snow ball fights proved uninteresting to Girl. What sort of girl didn’t like snow? There were fairies in the snow. She didn’t even notice them. They weren’t dying, so it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in them. She just…couldn’t see them. Was she a pirate? She couldn’t be a pirate. She had pink plastic daisies in her hair and pink sparkling nail varnish. She couldn’t be.

“What is she?” Peter demanded of Tinkerbell, but Tinkerbell was still at home in her cuckoo clock house. He'd forgotten.

And so, this was when the sixth argument began.

“Carlos,” Girl said, tugging gently at Crispy’s sleeve. “I know it’s nicer here, but I miss you a lot. I need you, Carlos."

“I don’t remember you,” said Crispy, but it was completely a lie. Peter had seen what a name looked like, shimmering right in the shiniest part of the human eye, just around the darkest ring of the iris. That was where names lived, the names you needed to remember. Not your own name—your own name was secret and nobody could see that at all unless you gave it to them—but those other names were there written on your face plain as day, and there was Girl’s name, not even faint, but bright and shining and wet, glossing the curve of Crispy’s dark-shadowed eyeballs. 

“Ugh, Crispy, you’re just—such a stupid butthead, why are you doing this?” sniffled Girl, and that was when she wiped her snotty nose and her big fat girl tears away with the flowery part of her sleeve, and Peter realized, oh, she was just a little girl after all. And that made her even more mysterious, because she certainly did not act like one.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Crispy said. “I just really don’t like algebra.”

“But don’t you like me?” Girl asked. “This whole time, I fed Roxy, and I took care of your stupid Farmville.”

“You don’t even like Farmville,” Crispy protested. "You haven't played it. No way."

“What is Farmville?” said Peter.

“Shut up, Peter,” said Crispy and Girl.

Peter said “HEY” but they didn’t pay attention to that either.

“Is Roxy okay?” Crispy asked her, and Girl snuffled her nose and nodded and looked at the snow and kicked at the toe of Crispy’s shoe. He was really asking about Abigail, Peter knew, though he didn't know why; he didn't know what an Abigail was or a Roxy, but ABIGAIL shone as bright in Crispy's memory as CHLOE did. It was obvious.

“She misses you,” said Girl. “I’m too boring for her.”

“Nah, you’re not boring,” said Crispy.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I just—“ Carlos shrugged. “I dunno. Guess I freaked out. I…I dunno.” 

“Okay,” said Girl, and then Crispy wrapped her all up in his arms like the way Little Fox sometimes wrapped his blanket around himself when it was too too too cold. 

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m so mad.” said Girl.

“I missed you, okay? I did. I love you a lot,” was how Crispy explained the hug, and whatever Girl said back was too quiet even for Peter’s extraordinary ears to hear, but it made Crispy smash his nose deep into her hair.

Well, that was that. Crispy was lost. Peter decided he was bored with them, and left to go see what Second Nibs and Little Fox were doing. Maybe he could get Tinkerbell to come out of her house and they could all go fishing together.

–

When the sun came up Crispy and Girl were gone, vanished without a trace.

“She probably murdered him in his sleep,” said Little Fox, with great gravity. “She seemed the type.”

“Toooooooooo dangerous,” agreed Second Nibs.

“Idiots,” said Tinkerbell, from where she sat, still solemn, on the point of Peter’s elbow.

“To our fallen comrade,” Peter said, removing his hat, placing it over his heart, and bowing, to show reverence to their former friend. The other Lost Boys, shaking their heads sadly, followed suit.

–

One day, Peter and Tinkerbell were eating ice creams in London, when they saw a boy and a girl holding hands as they went down the street. They looked happy, but shabby; devoid of color, in a way. So bone tired. Ah, thought Peter, he must work in an office. But wasn't it good not to be an adult?

There was something familiar about the boy, though—Peter couldn’t place it. But there, in the boy’s eyes, despite the heaviness that clung to them, was a girl’s name, a pretty girl’s name—the name of the girl whose hand he clutched so tightly.

Chloe was the name. It was a very young name, a new name, and indeed, the girl it belonged to was young and new…but there wasn’t anything young or new about her.

“What are they?” asked Peter, “They are quite young, aren’t they?” But Tinkerbell’s response was unsatisfactory: she tweaked his ear and pulled him away. Hook had been spotted mere hours ago (not that they counted things like that), and if they wanted to stand a chance against his crew, they had to find a new recruit before tea. Those two, those hand-holders, wouldn't be any good against pirates. They weren’t worth another thought.

–

There was nothing, after all, that made a child grow up so fast, or in such a complicated manner, as love nobody was prepared for.

(Real mothers? Neverland had no time for such nonsense.)


End file.
